Third time around
by faith-in-Faith
Summary: Maybe she will get it right the third time around....
1. Chapter 1

THIRD TIME AROUND

"Boscorelli."

"Yeah?" I look up at Lieutenant Anderson and try to look interested and alert, although I have no idea how long he has been calling my name.

I really hope he isn't about to give me a lecture for not listening during roll call. My inability to keep focus when they brief us is really starting to become a problem. I have always had a problem with that, but as long as I had a partner, things worked out anyway because all my

partners have been great listeners – especially Faith. But nowadays I'm flying solo for the most part and have no one to cover my ass. He doesn't look mad, though, only concerned.

"You OK, Boscorelli?"

He's a good guy – especially for a lieu. He isn't Swersky, but he's totally OK and I like working for him. The only odd thing with him is that he worries a whole lot more about people than guys usually do. Maybe he's gay, but he isn't the slightest bit of a sissy. In fact, he is one of the toughest guys I've ever met.

So, I just give him my best faked smile and reply, "Yes, sir. I'm fine, just have a lot on my mind."

And, unlike Swersky, he buys it. But he has no idea that he actually has a reason to worry about me. Nobody knows that except Faith, and since our last fight – just before the old precinct got blown up – she has chosen to keep her mouth shut. I don't really know why. Maybe all my harsh words finally got to be too much for her. Maybe she had proven her point. Maybe she has stopped caring, or maybe the fact that Swersky believed me and not her, finally made her think she was wrong. She wasn't. I don't think she has ever been wrong about anything that involves me. But as it is, no one knows about it but me and I intend on keeping it that way.

"You're with Detective Yokas today. She's investigating some hooker murder and needs an escort to the Butterfly club."

I stand up and put on my hat. "Sure, sir. No problem."

He nods in return.

I nod back and walk out from the roll call room, stopping by the desk to wait for her.

The thought of working with Faith sends the familiar wave of expectation and fear, sadness and joy through my body. We have worked together from time to time over the years on different cases. She always seems to choose me when she needs back up. I guess it's her way of telling me she still trusts me and that she's sorry. I don't really mind. I always feel better when I can keep an eye on her because, no matter what happens between us, I meant what I said when I told her I'd always be there for her.

"Hi, Bos."

Her soft voice jerks me out of my thoughts and I turn around to face her.

"Hi, what's up today?"

"I'm going to a strip club to talk to a real ass and it's my partner's day off…."

Her voice trails off when she realizes what she said. For some reason neither of us seem to be able to get over this partner stuff.

She takes a deep breath, offering me a tiny smile and continues, "So, I thought a uniform would put a damper on things."

I nod in agreement.

"So, you ready to go?" she asks with another very small and very nervous smile.

"Sure. Lieu said I was with you for today."

She turns around and starts walking toward the door. I follow her with a frown on my face.

Something is off with her today and the odd thing is that it feels familiar. I have seen this before but I can't figure out when. I'm out of practice. It's been years since one look into her eyes told me what she felt and what she needed from me. It was before all this shit with Cruz happened, before the shooting; before Fred left her…wait a minute! Fred! Now I remember. This is how she always smiled when they were fighting. She always smiled that smile before I helped her out by making a smart ass comment, or behaving like a jerk, giving her a reason to take her anger and frustration out on me. Miller! That son of a bitch! If he has been mean to her, I'm going to kill him!

The drive is quiet. It usually is nowadays. We have nothing to say to each other anymore. It's not that we fight either. There's just nothing to add – especially not since she moved it with Miller. For me, that was the final proof that she had moved on. I'm not important to her anymore and she doesn't need me. It's also the one thing she did that hurt me the most. She chose Miller over me – even though I took four bullets for her. She never chose anyone over me before – not even Fred.

She's letting me drive – like she always does. I wonder if that's another way of telling me she trusts me. I glance over at her. She stares out the window with empty eyes. Just as she always did back then and it gives me an irresistible urge to test the water, to see if I still have it in me.

I stop the car outside the club and just when she's about to get out I ask, "You OK?"

She turns to face me, her hand still on the door handle. "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

I just shrug and follow her out of the car. I have nothing to add. I've got all my answers. The tiny, nervous smile was there, and so was the brief flicker of hurt and uncertainty in her eyes. A flicker only the man she loves can put there and I'm going to kill Miller next time I see him.

I stand a few steps behind her, with my hands resting on my gun belt, guarding her, like I always do – like I always did. We always used to work like this when we were partners. She has always been a people's person. People always seem to confide in her and her patience –unlike mine – has always seemed endless, so this was how we used to do it. She talked to the morons and freaks. I guarded her from behind, looking for any signs of trouble, ready to back her up if she needed it.

I feel secure when she's in front of me. I have always liked it best when I can see her, when I know exactly where she is. It's easier for me to protect her when I know where she is, with one exception. If I know we most likely would get shot at, I prefer to have her behind me, because that gives me a chance to take the bullets before they hit her.

Not being able – or allowed – to be her partner, or even her friend, anymore is hard on me for several reasons. I miss her. I feel incredibly lonely and unimportant to the world when she doesn't need me, but what gets to me the most is not being able to protect her anymore. I'm so afraid that I will lose her completely, that I'm not even going to be able to see her from time to time.

I know she doesn't want me to protect her. She doesn't think I can do it anymore. She made that clear when she talked to Swersky five years ago. Still, she always asks for me when she needs uniformed back up. I wonder why? Maybe she really bought what I told Swersky and is trying to say she's sorry, or maybe she's just taking pity on me. Either way, it makes me feel depressed. I made a huge mistake five years ago. I know that now. I should probably have told her how I feel, but I didn't. I guess I thought I didn't need to. I guess I thought that taking four bullets in order to protect her would take care of that for me. Obviously I was wrong.

Her body language tells me that the conversation is going to be over soon and that it didn't turn out the way she wanted to.

She turns around abruptly. "Come on, Bosco. Let's go."

I follow her out to the car without a word, like I'm her faithful dog and that's probably not too far from the truth. I unlock the doors and we go inside. She looks angry and I debate for a few seconds if I should try to talk to her or not. But I want to hear her voice, so I decide to push my luck.

"How did it go?"

She sighs tiredly. "I didn't get the information I wanted. He sure knows how to twist out of my grasp." She sighs again. "Maybe I'm losing my touch."

"You're good at what you do, Faith," I say softly.

She looks at me and smiles that tiny, pathetic smile and I just know she's saying thank you. Something really is different today. It's almost like back in the old days. I wonder if it's because she's hurting. She always needed me the most when she was hurting.

She puts her head back against the head-rest and closes her eyes. I take the opportunity to look her over. She's very pale and there are black circles around her eyes that her make-up doesn't quite manage to cover. I wonder if this thing with Miller has been going on for a long time.

"Coffee?"

She opens her eyes and looks gratefully at me. "Yes, please. That would be great."

I nod and start the car. "Coffee it is."

When I get back to the car, she's resting her eyes again. I get inside and hand her the cup. She takes it with a smile that widens when she tastes it and realizes I still haven't forgotten how she takes it – like I could ever forget anything connected with her. I keep a special room both in my heart and in my brain just for her.

We sit in silence for a long time. It's not a tense silence, but it's not very comfortable either and finally, I just can't take it anymore. I turn toward her to ask if we should head back to the precinct. She has her head turned away from me, but it's already dark and I can see the reflection of her face in the window. A single tear runs down her cheek. It breaks my heart and the desire to kill Miller increases ten times but it also makes me insane, because the stupid words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop them. Things really are back to the old days.

"He screwed you over, didn't he?"

_Great work, Boscorelli!_ I can't believe I couldn't come to think of any other way to approach the subject. I really am a jerk and the problem is that she doesn't love me anyway.

I watch her body stiffen and she quickly dries the tear away. "It's none of your damn business, Bosco. Leave me alone!"

She tries to sound angry but I can tell she isn't really. She's just trying to keep herself from falling apart, but she's right. It's none of my business – not anymore.

"Sorry."

She sighs. "No, I'm sorry. You're right. He did, but that's not your fault and I have no right to take it out on you. Please forgive me."

_No, it isn't my fault. Not this time…._

"It's OK."

She doesn't answer.

"He's a jag-off"

"Well, I got my job and my apartment. You know what? I'm probably better off without him. He was no prize." She almost whispers the last part and I can hear the tears in her voice, but her tiny smile tells me she remembers the last time we had this conversation.

Her gaze wanders to my hand and for some reason, I don't even understand myself, I reach out and cover hers.

There's no "I miss you, Bosco" this time, though. I guess you can't have everything. Instead, there's another silence but it's not uncomfortable and, although it has been years and years since the last time, I just know that this is her way of asking for my support and I'm telling her – by keeping silent – that she has it. But her next statement takes me by complete and utter surprise.

"You never would have, would you?"

I'm considering if I should just pretend that I don't understand what she means but that wouldn't be fair. She's wearing her heart on her sleeve and, after all we've been through together, she deserves the truth, because what she's offering me. Not to mention that I almost feel ashamed for underestimating her. I didn't have to tell her. She knew. All these years she knew the truth but something made her chose Miller anyway. I guess I was the one who read the signs wrong – as always. She never loved me the way I love her.

"No, I wouldn't."

She nods knowingly. "I'm such an idiot."

I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that so for once I'm trying the option of keeping my mouth shut.

"I really thought it would be the best for both of us – to be apart, you know?"

"Exactly how would that be better?"

She chews nervously on her lower lip for a second. "Because we seem to keep doing these insane things in order to cover for, and protect, each other."

"Like getting shot?"

She nods. "Yeah, so I thought that if we were apart it would increase our chances of survival."

I nod in agreement. I have to admit she's got a point there.

"But if you think it's better for us to be apart then why do you ask for me very time you need back up?"

"Because I miss you. I miss you so incredibly much, Bos. I feel like a piece of me is missing and I can't stand it."

I don't answer. I want to be angry with her for pushing me away and leaving me alone. I want to hate her for not letting me know that she knew all along how much I loved her. But I can't, because I can see that she's hurting, too, and I don't want to make it worse. I love her too much for that. If I could have it my way I would lock her up somewhere safe, where nothing or no one could harm her, and keep her there forever.

She takes a shuddered breath. "I'm so sorry, Bos. I never meant to hurt you. I guess it was another bad decision, but those are the only ones I seem to be able to make nowadays.

"Welcome to my world," I murmur.

She smiles slightly.

"So, all this nagging about my eyesight, all this drama about not believing me when I said I had passed the test on my own, that was just an act to make me pissed at you and drive me away?"

She looks horrified. "God, no, Bos! I could never be that cruel! I did it because I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"What the hell do you think? I was afraid you would get hurt! Is it really so hard to understand? The thought of you out there, without being able to see properly, scared the shit of me. What if a perp attacked you and you didn't see him coming, or missed the shot because you couldn't see what you aimed at? I would never have been able to live through that, Bos. Never. That day at the hospital, when you got shot, I tried desperately to keep you alive. I tried to breathe for you, but it didn't work. I preformed CPR on you and it didn't work either. You were slipping away from me and there was nothing I could do to stop it."

Her voice cracks because she's crying now and she takes a deep breath to try to get control of her emotions. I try to wrap my brain around the fact that she did that for me. I had been shot in the head, right through my cheek. I see the result of the damage that bullet made every time I look in the mirror and I can only imagine how horrible it looked before they put it together. I can't believe she could get herself to even touch me under those circumstances. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she loves me, too. I can't believe that no one bothered to tell me she saved my life just as much as I saved hers. I wish someone had bothered to tell me she's a hero.

"Faith…."

She closes her eyes and the expression on her face is tormented. "I see that scene every time I close my eyes, Bos. I can taste your blood in my mouth. I'm sorry, but no matter how much I love you, I could never do that again. Please forgive me."

I reach out and take her hand again; squeezing it so hard I'm almost afraid I'll break it.

"I'm so sorry, Faith. I didn't know. I wish you had told me. You should have told me. Why didn't you?"

"I don't know. I guess I never found the right moment. It isn't something you just say out of the blue, you know…and then things started to fall apart and all we did was fighting and it didn't feel like an appropriate thing to bring up."

I nod. It makes sense. Actually, a lot of things that I didn't get at the time make sense all of a sudden.

The way she looked at me from time to time after I woke up, like she couldn't believe I was really there. The way she kept thinking I couldn't take care of myself. The ways she tried to keep me at a distance. Poor Faith, all she ever did was to try to keep the ghosts away.

She has her head down and I know she's struggling hard not to cry. I squeeze her hand again to get her attention. "Faith."

She looks up and meets my eyes.

"Thank you."

She smiles weakly. "I guess we're even."

I gaze fondly at her. "You never owed me anything, Faith."

She gazes back at me and her eyes rapidly fill with tears. She breaks free from my grasp and put her head in her hands, crying so hard she's shaking.

"Faith, it's OK now. It's over. Please, don't cry."

She doesn't answer, just keeps crying. I can't stand to see her as heartbroken as this. It makes me feel desperate, so I do what I should have done years ago if I had only known. I reach out and pull her into my embrace, caressing her hair and whisper meaningless, but soothing, words in her ear. She cries for what seems like an eternity and my chest, back and neck start to hurt from the awkward position we're in, but I don't care.

Finally she pulls away and dries her tears and we sit in silence again while she composes herself.

"Sorry."

"It's OK."

"I don't usually act like this – I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me today," she says and smiles apologetically at me.

"I know that, Faith. It's OK. Don't worry about it."

She smiles a grateful smile and this time it's one of her real smiles.

There's another silence and then she asks with her voice filled with something between hopefulness and fear, "So, where do we go from here, Bos? You and me, I mean. Is there any chance that we can rebuild what we had?"

I look affectionately at her and gently run my hand along the side of her face. "No, Faith. We can't. But maybe we can build something new."

She covers my hand with hers and gives me another bright smile. "I think I'd like that, Bos."

I smile back and rub my thumb over her cheek.

She shivers slightly, covering a yawn with her hand.

"Tired?" I ask, and pull some of her hair behind her ear.

I find it more than strange that such an intimate gesture can feel so normal to both of us. It's like we have been doing it for years and maybe we have – in our minds.

"Yeah, I haven't slept all that well lately."

I caress her cheek again, still amazed that she lets me. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really…." She hesitates for a second. "At least not now – not here." Her eyes are pleading with me to understand.

"It's OK. How about I take you back to the precinct and we can talk about it some other time?"

"Sounds great," she replies quietly, looking sad and beaten again.

I _so_ need to kill Miller!

"He's an idiot, Faith. He doesn't know what he's letting go," I say softly.

She chews on her bottom lip and nods, but she avoids meeting my eyes and I know she blames herself – as always. No surprise there, but I guess since all the men in her life – including myself – keep doing the same thing, she doesn't know any better.

I brush my fingers over her lips. "Don't do that. You're gonna hurt yourself."

She smiles slightly but the sad look remains in her eyes and makes my chest hurt.

I gaze intensely at her, trying to make her feel my love. "It's gonna get better from now on, Faith. I promise. Thing will work out – like they always do."

She nods slowly and I'm mirroring her action and then I start the car and drive us back to the house.

When we arrive at the precinct, we get out and I turn to her and smile. "See you tomorrow."

She smiles back and asks shyly, "Can you come over and talk tonight?"

"Not tonight, Faith. I'm sorry. I have something I have to do," I answer softly.

"Oh, I see. It's OK if you don't want to…I mean; I understand that it has to feel awkward. You know what? Just forget about it, OK? I didn't mean to act like so clingy." She twists her hands nervously and refuses to look at me.

Her uncertainness is heartbreaking and makes me feel even worse for turning her down, but I have no choice. I can't be with her tonight. Tonight, I'm going to spend in bed trying to live through another migraine. There's no doubt about that. I can already feel the pulsating pain in my temples and down my jaw and the light from the street lights hurts my eyes. If I'm lucky, I'll have an hour before my vision blurs and I have to throw up, but it's probably more like twenty minutes and I don't want her to know about this – at least not right now.

"You're not clingy. What kind of word is that anyway?" I say, trying to sound annoyed.

My little act has the desired effect on her because she smiles fondly at me. "Just another word you didn't care to learn, Bos."

"I know what it means. It's just stupid and you don't act like it, OK? But I just can't make it tonight. I'm really sorry. I can come by tomorrow, after my shift, if you want me to."

She smiles softly. "I'd love that, Bos."

I grin at her. "So, tomorrow it is."

She nods and leans in to hug me. I hold her tight and whisper. "It will be OK. I promise."

55555555555555555555

I'm lying on my bed with my arm flung over my eyes. I take a few deep breathes, trying to make my tense body to relax. It hurts like hell and I know it's going to be a while before the meds kick in. Usually, I wish I was dead when I feel like this, but not today. Today, I m thinking of Faith and the fact that she's the reason I feel like this right now and that makes it all worth it, because she's alive and she's coming back to me again.

I


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: Third time around

AUTHOR: faith-in-Faith

DISCLAIMER: Don't own any of this.

RATING: PG-13

SUMMARY: Let's try again, maybe we get it right this time….

SPOILERS: Nothing to spoil anymore

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you, Joey, for sticking around, never giving up on me and my writing and thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing. :D So here it is; chapter two of this. I really hope you will like it. :)And no worries, I have already done the sad take on the lousy last eppi. This is eventually gonna have a happy ending. :)

CHAPTER TWO

I take a deep breath and knock on Faith's door. While I'm waiting for her to answer, I run my hands over my hair and down my shirt, hoping I look OK. I know I'm pale and I know she's going to notice, but it can't be helped. I'm always pale the day after a migraine attack. Probably because I still have a faint headache and feel slightly nauseous.

I hear footsteps approaching from inside the apartment and then the door opens, revealing a smiling Faith. "Hi, Bos. Thanks for coming."

I smile back. "No problem, I wanted to be here. How are you? Feeling any better?"

She shrugs and bites down her bottom lip.

I move inside and close the door. As I take off my jacket I glance around. I haven't been here since the mess with Emmy and Dante, but I think it looks pretty much the same.

She takes the jacket from me and puts it on the coat rack. "Let's go and sit down," she says softly and I can tell that she's very nervous.

When we're moving into the living room, I notice a few new pieces of furniture and books that have to be Miller's. I guess he hasn't official moved out yet. Faith's nervousness makes me nervous, too, and – once again – it feels like we're strangers instead of best friends. But I'm determined not to let it scare me this time. She has always had a hard time admitting she needs help – she's too proud – and the fact that it has been a long time since we talked at all, doesn't make it any easier. But I know she needs me, and I'm not about to let her down one more time because of foolish pride.

I shift slightly on the couch, so I'm able to face her, and I'm just about to ask her what happened when she beats me to it. "How was your shift?"

OK, so this is how she wants to play it. She's trying to avoid talking about her own problems by focusing on me, but that's OK. I'm not in a hurry and I intend on getting her to talk sooner or later.

I shrug. "OK, I guess. I was assigned to foot patrol. It's kind of tiring, not to mention boring."

"I bet," she says softly. "You know, you don't have to be here if you don't want to. I mean, if you're too tired and want to go home, it's perfectly all right. We can hang out some other time."

"No, it's OK. I'm fine."

"You sure? You look kind of pale."

I sigh inwardly. I hate this. I knew she was going to notice and now I'll have to watch my step so she doesn't figure things out before I summon enough courage to tell her the truth. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God….

I decide to keep as close to the truth as possible. "Yeah, I'm sure. I just have a slight headache, that's all."

Her eyebrows furrow and she gazes at me with concern. "That doesn't sound good. Do you want me to get you some Advil or something?"

Advil? Yeah, why not? At this point it might actually help. "That would be great, thanks. If it's not too much trouble."

She shakes her head and stands up. "No, not at all."

She heads out into the kitchen and comes back almost immediately with a glass of water and two Advil. I down them quickly and smile gratefully at her when I return the glass.

"You sure you're OK? I can't remember you getting headaches – unless you were hung-over, or had a concussion."

I smile slightly. "True."

"So, what's going on then?"

I shrug again. "Nothing special, maybe I'm getting old."

"Maybe you're coming down with something," she says worriedly, completely ignoring my attempt to lighten the mood.

"Maybe," I answer vaguely.

"You should head home and go to bed."

Her eyes are big and dark with worry and it makes me feel even worse for misleading her, but, as things are, it's better for her to think I'm getting sick than knowing the truth. The problem with Faith has always been that she's too smart, too perceptive. She's great at figuring things out and never misses the small details. That skill makes her a great detective, but a kind of scary person to have as a friend because it feels like she can look into your soul.

I reach out and take her hand, half expecting her to pull back, but she remains still, looking intensely at me. "No, Faith. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what happened with Miller."

Her eyes suddenly look shiny – like she's trying not to cry. "It doesn't really matter, Bos. It's over. Let's just forget about it, OK?"

I squeeze her hand gently and say reassuringly, "We will, but not until you tell me what happened."

"Why, Bos, why? Why do you need to know so badly?"

"Because it's obvious that you're hurting because of it and it's not good to bottle things up inside."

_No to mention that I need to know exactly how much damage I have to do to Miller next time I see him._

"Says who?"

I smile. "You."

She smiles back. "Got me there."

I nod. "So what happened?"

She looks down on our joined hands and it's easy to tell that she's close to tears. I squeeze her hand again. "Faith?"

"It was like Fred all over again," she finally whispers.

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"He said I wasn't devoted enough. That I worked too much, choosing work over us. Stuff like that."

I stare at her in disbelief. "But that doesn't make sense. He's a cop, too, never-the-less a detective. He ought to know how it works – that our kind of work doesn't necessarily stop because the shift is over."

"That's what I said, too, but he said that if we both put work first our relationship was doomed."

"And I guess you're the one who was supposed to work less?"

She nods wordlessly, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over.

"And then he left?"

She doesn't answer, just keeps her eyes glued to our joined hands. I reach out and carefully lift her chin so I can look into her eyes. Tears are silently running down her cheeks and her sadness makes it hard for me to breathe. "Faith?"

"He didn't leave. I threw him out," she whispers shakily.

I feel my stomach tighten with fear. What did that bastard do to her?

"Why, Faith? What happened?" I coax gently.

For the longest moment she just looks at me, different emotions flickering in her eyes. There's anger, sadness and regret and finally she says, "He cheated on me."

"What? You gotta be kidding me!"

She shakes her head sadly. "No, he told me last week. She's some kind of press-secretary over at the mayor's office."

"I so very sorry, Faith," I say softly, gently caressing her cheek.

I want to sooth her but I'm obviously making it worse because she buries her head in her hands and bursts out into a flood of tears. For the briefest moment, I just stare at her not sure what to do. Faith breaking down in front of me over and over again is so new it makes me confused and unsure of what to do, but then I get my senses back and quickly wrap my arms around her. I hold her tight and gently rub her back as the sobs wrack through her body, and I make a mental note to make sure there's other people around when I confront Miller about this because that's the only thing that will keep me from killing him.

A couple of minutes later, her crying subsides a bit and the sobs are less violent. She squirms slightly in my arms and I loosen my hold on her so she can pull away if she wants to. But that causes her to press her face harder into my shoulder and I tighten my grip again.

"It's OK, Faith. It's OK. I'm here now, everything is gonna be OK," I say softly, while stroking her hair and gently kissing her temple.

"Why, Bos? Why?" she asks in a muffled voice, her face still firmly pressed into my shirt.

"Why what, Faith?"

"Why do all the men in my life leave me behind? Why aren't I good enough? Why do they find me so easy to replace?"

I swallow hard, feeling like a big ass because this is a question I actually know the answer to, but I don't want to tell her.

"We don't think you're easy to replace," I whisper softly.

"Then why do they cheat on me?"

"Because you're too good, too patient, too reliable. We think you're gonna be there no matter what and when we realize you won't – it's already too late – we have lost you."

She pulls away slightly and dries at her tears. "So it's true then: it is my fault."

I shake my head sadly. "No, it isn't."

She looks confused. "But that's what they said, both of them, and that's what you're saying now. You all leave me because the way I act."

"True. But there's nothing wrong with the way you act. You act the way good, faithful people act."

"Then why do all my relationships fall apart?"

"Because you choose the wrong guys, Faith. That's the only thing you ever do wrong. You choose assholes who don't have the common sense to appreciate what they have. We're big jag-off's that don't deserve you. It's as simple as that."

She pulls away a bit further and asks slightly puzzled, "Why do you keep saying we, Bos? You have never done something like this. We have never been together and you said you'd never do such a thing to me, remember?"

I look down in my lap, unable to look her in the eyes when I respond. "That's only because I already have."

She puts her hand on my cheek, trying to get me to look at her, but I refuse. "What do you mean, Bos? I don't understand." Her voice is soft and filled with confusion.

"Yes, I have – with Cruz. I cheated on my partner and best friend with an unfaithful bitch."

"Bos, that's hardly the same–"

"Yes it is!" I say harshly. "That's the exact same thing, just worse."

"Bos…listen to me." Her eyes and voice are soft with concern, but I cut her off again.

"No, you listen to me. I need to say this. I know you have always wondered why I did what I did. Why I chose Cruz over you. That's your answer. You're too good, too reliable and too faithful and I wasn't smart enough to realize what I had. I took you for granted. It never occurred to me that I could lose you, but I almost did. I almost lost you and not only once, but twice. First you almost died because of me and then, when God was good enough to give you back to me, I almost lost you as a friend and that almost killed me. That's why I took those bullets for you."

"Because you didn't want to lose me?" she whispers, her voice thick with tears.

I nod firmly and gently wipe away one of her tears with my thumb. "That, and because I love you."

She gazes intently at me. "You do?"

I nod again. "I do."

She swallows hard. "And I love you and I can't live without you either. That's why I didn't believe you. I was so afraid to lose you. I was so afraid you would get yourself killed. I'm sorry, Bos. I'm so very sorry. In the end we lost each other anyway and it was my fault. I'm so sorry. I should have believed you."

I draw her back into my embrace, not only because I want to sooth her but also because I'm afraid she will see the truth in my eyes. I'm terrified she will see that she was right all a long.

"It's OK, Faith. I understand; let's forget it ever happened, OK?"

She nods against my chest and I can feel my shirt getting wet from her tears. "OK."

I close my eyes tightly, trying not to think of starting our new relationship with another secret, with another lie, but the fear that the truth, once it comes out – and it always does, that's something I've learned over the years – is going to kill us, makes me feel sick.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: Third time around

AUTHOR: faith-in-Faith

DISCLAIMER: Do not own a thing

RATING: PG-13

SUMMARY: Maybe she will get it right eventually...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all for the reviews. They mean a lot to me.   
And thank you, Joey. I'd be lost without you. I really hope you will enjoy this. Chapter four is still WIP but I promise to hurry as much as I can.

CHAPTER THREE

I stand on the street outside Miller's apartment. It's pretty late, but I'm in no hurry. I have plenty of time. It's my day off and Faith is at work. She called me an hour ago, cancelling our dinner date. She's going to be late because she had some major breakthrough in a complicated case she has been working on for months. That gave me the idea to come here and settle my business with Miller, once and for all.

It has been almost two weeks now, since Faith and I started from scratch, and I have to admit that I like this even better than what we had before. The tender, physical attraction between us is new but very nice. There's no doubt in my mind that she really loves me just as much as I love her, but we're taking it really slow because there's a lot of stuff from the past that we still need to work out together. For example; I haven't told her the truth about my migraines yet. I know I have to, because in the long run it's going to be awfully hard to hide. Especially if we start spending the night together and especially if it continues the way it has lately. I have had three attacks since the night we reunited and that's a lot more frequent than it used to be. I'm not sure why, but I guess it's the anticipation of having another one, together with the lack of sleep the worry for Faith is causing me.

She keeps saying that I don't have to worry, that she's fine, but I know that isn't true. This Miller business is hard on her but I think there's something else bothering her, too. I don't know what it is, or why I think so, but there's something in her eyes from time to time, a haunted, tormented look that I can't remember seeing there before.

A cab is pulling up to the pavement and I feel myself tense when I identify the man climbing out as Miller.

I take a deep breath and quickly walk up to him. "Miller."

He looks surprised. "Boscorelli, right?"

"Don't play stupid with me. You know very well who I am!"

He looks calmly at me. "Yeah, I know who you are. You can't know Faith without knowing who you are. The question is; what are you doing here?"

Before I get a chance to answer, something dawns on him and he looks worriedly at me. "Has something happened to her? Is she hurt? Is that why you're here?"

I want to punch him in the face for having the nerve to pretend he actually cares about her, but I suppress it. When I hit him I want him to know exactly why I'm doing it.

"Yes, she's hurt and you were the one who hurt her."

He bares his teeth at me in what I guess is supposed to be a smile but it makes him look like a wolf getting ready to tear his prey apart. "Well, that makes two of us."

I feel the air leave my lungs – like he punched me in the stomach – and I know that he's right. I hurt her, too, before he did, and probably just as bad – if not worse.

For a moment I'm overwhelmed with memories – really bad ones. I remember the numerous of times I hurt her with my words and I can't decide which is worse; all the times I hurt her because I'm a thoughtless jerk, or the times I did it on purpose. I guess the times when I did it on purpose are the worst because those times she always had trouble forgiving me, and for the first time in my life I realize that I can't make it up to her. I can't undo all the bad things I've done to her over the years. I can't take away the sorrow and pain I've caused her. I can't make it up to her, but what I can do is do it differently this time. I can show her that I have changed. For a moment the thought makes me so excited I almost forget the task on hand – killing Miller – but his next statement quickly brings me back to reality and reminds me why I need to hurt him.

"I can see that you agree, but don't worry, she's stupid enough not to care and if you want her, feel free. She's no good anyway. She's as useless as a wife as she is as a detective."

My brain tells me not to care. That he's not worth it. He's not an important person in her life anymore and he's lying. He's just trying to hurt her, but my poor brain doesn't stand a chance against my heart – never has. It's has been my downfall more times than I can count and today is no different.

The memories of the hurt, devastated look her eyes and the tears on her cheeks create an enormous rage. It's not just those memories that haunt me, but also the memories from when Fred left her. I remember how she sat beside my bed desperately trying to hide her tears from me. I know she was afraid that I'd get upset and get worse and she tried to be strong for me. I can't remember ever feeling so helpless in my entire life – except when Dad hurt Ma. Faith was hurting and there was nothing I could do to help. I couldn't even say some soothing words because the pain in my cheek made me dizzy. I couldn't help her then. I couldn't kick Fred's ass. I couldn't make things better but this time I can, and before I can stop myself, my fist shoots out and I punch him square on the jaw.

He stumbles backwards and then reaches up and cradles his jaw in his hand, staring at me in disbelief. "You're insane, Boscorelli! Completely insane! I guess that bullet in your head made more damaged than they originally thought."

That comment would usually be rewarded with another punch in his face, but the fact that his words hold more truth than anybody knows makes me sober up. I need to stop now because I can't help Faith from a jail cell, and I remember that I wanted her to know I've changed.

So, I suppress my anger by taking deep breaths, just as the shrink taught me, and reply, "Just stay away the hell way from her. I don't want you anywhere near her, or her apartment, again. If I ever see you near her again, I'm gonna kick your ass so bad, you'd wish you were dead. Do I make myself clear?"

"Is that a threat I hear? If I report you, you could lose your job."

I look calmly at him. "Just go ahead. There's no witnesses – just your word against mine."

He smirks at me. "Yeah, and I'm a superior officer. People would believe me over you."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that if I was you. I'm a decorated hero, remember? Maybe I'm known as a screw-up, but I'm also known as someone who always has my colleagues' backs. Would you really take the chance and mess with someone who took a bullet in his head to save his partner?"

He shakes his head in disgust. "Just stay away from me."

"Just stay away from Faith and you'll never have to hear from me again."

Without another word, he turns around and disappears through his front door.

I take a deep breath in order to calm myself down but it's not working very well and I'm starting to fear that the tension is going to cause another migraine. I grab my cell phone from my pocket and dial Faith's number. I need to hear her voice because it always calms me down when I'm upset.

55555555

"So, where do you wanna eat?" Faith asks with a smile.

"Doesn't really matter," I say with a slight shrug, desperately trying to ignore the faint pressure behind my eyes.

It's the first sign of a migraine attack and I know it all too well, but I can't have one now. This is like our first real date and that's not a good time for her to find out about my secret. Since we made up we have gotten together a couple of times at her, or my place, but this is the first time we're doing something in public and, considering the fact that neither of us are sure about what this new connection means, it's a huge step forward. So it would really suck if I spoiled it all by having a migraine.

She smiles again. "What about the pasta place around the corner?"

I nod in agreement. "Sounds good. I remember it as a good place."

It's a great idea in more than one way because it's in a walking distance and that means I don't have to pretend to be able to drive if I get a migraine. And, with some luck, the fresh air will make me feel better.

I push around the lasagne on my plate and try to bring myself to eat it, but the pulsating pain in my temples and cheek makes me feel nauseous and it's difficult to focus on the task on hand. No matter how much I don't want to, I'm coming down with a migraine, and God knows how I'm going to hide the truth to Faith this time. I know it's just a matter of time before she's going to notice that something is wrong.

The next words out of her mouth confirm my fears. "You OK, Bos?"

_OK here goes nothing._ "Yeah, I'm fine."

She frowns. "Then why aren't you eating?"

I sigh. No luck there. It's time to try another way to approach this and I decide to try the kind of half-lie I'm so good at nowadays. Since I woke up, I have discovered that the closer you get to the truth, the greater the chance people will believe your lies.

"I don't feel so hot, OK?" _No lie there._

She looks worriedly at me. "What's wrong?"

"I have a headache and…." My voice trails off and I swallow hard. We're getting a little too close to the truth for me to feel comfortable, but this is how this half-lie stuff works.

"Again? Bosco, that's like twice in two weeks. What's going on?" _Make that four._

_Ok, let the lying begin._ "I don't really know but I feel like I'm coming down with the flu or something." I answer and look down at my plate – just in case she stills has the ability to see when I'm lying.

"Yeah? You sure look pale," she says compassionately and gently touches my cheek.

Her touch is feather-light and makes me shiver which – conveniently enough – makes her think I have chills.

"Come on, let's go home and get you in bed, where you belong," she says firmly and waves at the waitress.

When she shows up Faith asks for the bill and then turns to me again. "Why didn't you tell me you're not feeling well?"

She looks worried and concerned, but not angry, and I'm very grateful for it, because if she starts yelling, my head is going to explode.

I close my eyes. "I didn't want to spoil the evening, but I guess I managed to do so anyway."

She reaches out and squeezes my hand. "Oh, Bos. That's sweet of you but you didn't spoil anything. It's not your fault you're sick."

I smile weakly in return. The waitress comes back and I take the opportunity to rest my eyes while Faith takes care of the bill. This wasn't how I planned things. I had every intention of paying for both of us, but I'm in no condition to argue with her.

Then I feel her hand on my arm and she says softly, "Come on, Bos. Let's get you home."

I open my eyes and realize my vision is blurry. Shit! That's all I need right now. It has been a long time since I wasn't already at home when this happens. I have learned to handle my migraines pretty good over the years, but there are always times when things get in the way, and this is definitely one of them.

I stand up. The inability to focus my eyes properly makes me feel slightly dizzy and I grab the table for support.

Faith quickly grabs my arm. "You OK, Bos?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"You think you gonna be able to make it home, or do you want me to call a cab?"

"No it's OK. It's just a block."

Once outside, I wince when the glare from the streetlights hurts my eyes. I can feel Faith's eyes on me but she makes no comment about it. We slowly make our way down the street in silence. My head hurts so bad that I just want to lie down on the street and die and I wonder how the hell I'm going to be able to drive home – especially, with my blurry vision. When we reach her apartment, I carefully break free from her hold and start heading toward my car.

Faith quickly takes hold of me again and says, "Hey, where do you think you're going?"

"Home, of course."

I sound a lot more irritated than I intended to but I'm feeling worse with every passing second and I know it's not going to be long before I throw up. Not to mention how I really need my painkillers. I don't know if I'm going to survive without them.

"I don't think you should be alone right now. It seems like you have caught a really nasty bug. I think it's better if you stay at my place for now," she answers softly, gently rubbing my arm.

"It's OK, Faith, I can handle it. I'm a big boy."

"And how are you supposed to get there? You're in no condition to drive."

There's a hint of anger in her voice but it's almost hidden behind the fear and I feel bad for scaring her, but I can't soothe her now. I need to go home and lie down before I start puking or pass out on her.

I tiredly close my eyes. "Please, Faith. Don't start nagging me. I really need to go home and get in bed."

"You can have my bed."

"Please, Faith. I really wanna go home."

She sighs. "OK, but I'm driving you there and I'm staying with you until you feel better."

Great! Just what I need! How the hell am I going to keep this a secret if she stays around? I don't have any strength left to argue with her, though. My wish for death is overwhelming right now, so I just hold out my car keys to her.

I can tell that my lack of resistance is making her even more worried, but – just like before – she says nothing – just unlocks the car and helps me inside.

I spend the whole car ride trying to keep myself from throwing up and when we finally reach my apartment the headache is so bad I think I'm going to pass out. Once inside, I immediately make my way to the bathroom, happy that we're in my apartment since I can barely see the way through my blurry vision. I kneel down on the floor in front of the toilet and start puking and – as usual – I want to die. I hate puking. I hear Faith entering the bathroom behind me and get the water in the sink running.

I lick my lips and inhale slowly. The nausea is gone and I thank the Lord for the small favours. I can feel Faith's presence behind me and a chill runs down my spine when her soft hand gently strokes my back.

"Bos?" Her voice is as soft as her hands.

"Mmm."

"Here." A cold, damp towel revel itself in front of my face.

I take it and wipe my face before returning it to her. It feels wonderful and makes me think of my Ma. She used to wipe my face with a cold washcloth when I got sick as a kid.

"You done?"

"Yeah."

"Come on, let's get you in bed," she says gently and drags me onto my feet.

Feeling my brain explode in my head, I moan slightly. "Painkillers, Faith. I need my painkillers.

She nods. "I'll get you some Tylenol as soon as I've got you in bed."

I close my eyes in desperation. This is working going horribly and I realize I have two choices: try to live through this without my painkillers, or face Faith's wrath when she finds out the truth. It's not an easy choice because both are going to hurt. While my poor, aching brain tries to make a decision, Faith helps me to the bedroom and into my bed. She covers me with blankets and sits down on the edge of my bed, carefully stroking my scared cheek.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. My head is killing me."

"Poor, Bos. This bug really hit you hard, huh?"

OK, so this is it. I can't take this another minute. Not the pain and not the lies. They are both killing me. I need to tell her the truth, although I fear it's going to be the end of us.

"Faith, can you please get me my painkillers?"

"Sure, Bos. I have some Tylenol in my purse. I'll go and get them for you."

She stands up and is about to leave when I grasp her wrist. "No Tylenol, Faith. I need my migraine pills. They are in the middle shelf in the bathroom cupboard."

She appears frozen for a moment. "Why would you need migraine pills for the flu, Bos? Wait a minute…why do you even have migraine pills?"

I close my eyes, unable to look at her when I confess. "Faith, there's something I need to tell you. I don't have the flu. I get migraines."

She looks at me with a puzzled expression on her face. "Migraines? You get migraines?"

"Yeah."

She runs her hand over my hair in a loving gesture. Probably the last one I'll ever have from her. "Poor, Bos. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry."

"Why would I worry?"

"Isn't that what you do best?"

She smiles warmly. "You're right."

Then, suddenly, her hand stops in the motion and her body gets stiff, and I know I'm caught.

"For long have you got migraines?"

I don't answer, somehow hoping for a miracle to help me out of this mess.

"Bosco?"

"Pretty much since I got home from the hospital."

She takes her hand away and stands up. "Your eye isn't OK either, is it?"

The anger I expected isn't there. Instead, her voice is shaky, like she's afraid or trying not to cry. I wonder why, but at this point, my head hurts too badly for me to be able to figure it out.

"Please, Faith, I can't do this right now. I'm sorry."

She nods slowly. "OK, I'll go and get you your painkillers and leave you alone so you can rest." And with that she leaves the room.

She comes back, just moments later, carrying a glass of water and my pills.

"Sit up," she says shortly.

I do as I'm told.

"The bottle says take two. Is that right?"

"Yeah," I whisper.

She hands me the pills and the water. I down them and try to focus on her through my blurry vision. "I'm sorry, Faith"

"Just rest, Bos. We'll talk about this later. I'll be in the living room if you need anything.

She still doesn't sound angry, just tired and sad, and for some reason that's even more frightening. I watch her disappear from the room and close my eyes, silently begging that she will find in her heart to forgive me, but I doubt it. I know the fact that I made her look like a traitor and liar, accusing her for betraying me, when all the time I was the one who lied and betrayed, is going to be the end of our friendship, because who wants a friend like that? Not Faith, that's for sure, and the thought of losing her makes my head hurt even more.


	4. Chapter 4

TITLE: Third time around

AUTHOR: faith-in-Faith

PARING: Bosco and Faith

RATING: PG-13

DISCLAIMER: Do not own this – at all, but I enjoy it! ;)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: OK, so I know it took forever and that most of you probably have forgotten about this one already, but real life has been a bitch and my Bosco-Faith muse have kind of abandoned me. :( So I can't tell you when the next chapter will be up, but I will finish this eventually. I promise.

CHAPTER FOUR

When I wake up it's not so dark anymore, but the curtains are tightly closed, only letting a small amount of daylight in. Faith must have closed them last night. At first I'm grateful that she still cares enough to take care of me and try to make me feel better. Maybe there's still hope for us, but then I remember that caring is a part of her nature and that she might very well be doing it on autopilot.

I carefully sit up, slowly taking my time to see how I'm doing. My vision is OK. I'm not dizzy or nauseous and the headache is almost gone. All I feel is the faint pounding – just as I usually do the day after a migraine. I wearily run my hands over my face before crawling out of bed and making my way through the apartment to look for Faith. After what happened last night, I doubt that she's still here, but she said she would be, so I still have some hope.

I find her in the living room, sitting on the couch watching TV. She looks up when she hears my footsteps approaching.

"Hi," I say softly, studying her face in an attempt to figure out how much trouble I'm in.

She doesn't look the slightest bit mad, only sad and devastated and for some reason, that's even more frightening.

"How are you feeling?"

I sit down on couch beside her. "A lot better."

She studies me for a few moments. "You look a lot better, too." She hesitates for a moment before continuing. "So you feeling OK then? No signs of the flu? I mean, you sure it was just a migraine? You're not getting sick, too?"

I carefully shake my head. "No, it was just a normal migraine."

She nods. "OK." Then, without looking at me, she stands up and grabs her purse from the coffee table. "Then I'll head out. Take care."

I quickly stand up as well and grab her wrist. "Faith, wait! You can't just leave like this. You gotta let me explain."

She doesn't try to get away but she refuses to look at me when she answers.

"What else is there to say, Bosco? Except congratulation on the great acting. You had me totally fooled. You should really consider becoming an actor instead of a cop, because you definitely have the skills for it and it's a lot less dangerous. Who knows, I might even be able to sleep every now and then if you did."

Although, her reply is kind of sarcastic, her face and voice are anything but. She looks like she's about to cry and I can't help but wonder if it's true. Is she really losing sleep over me? The thought is both touching and scary at the same time.

"I'm so sorry, Faith. I didn't want to fool you or lie to you, but you left me no choice."

The sad and devastated look is back in her eyes and this time I can't blame Fred or Miller. This is all me.

"So once again we're back to me. It's my fault."

"No, Faith, that's not what I meant. I was acting like an ass and I used bad judgment – still do – but that's not your fault. We both know I don't need you to accomplish such things. That's one of my better skills."

She closes her eyes.

"You made me question my sanity. You made me look like a traitor and you made me look bad when I confronted Swersky. You made me wish I had died that day. If this was your way of getting back at me for destroying your life when I refused to shoot for you, then you really succeeded."

"Faith…."

She shakes her head and turns around. "Don't."

"Faith, please, I'm sorry. I really am, but I couldn't act any differently at the time. I need to be a cop, Faith. That's who I am. That's all I have. If I'm not a cop, I'm nobody. I'm useless. I couldn't deal with that so I had to eliminate everyone and everything that could stop that from happening and right then you where the only threat left. And besides; I didn't lie."

She looks at me in disbelief. "You didn't lie?"

I look her straight in the eyes. "No, I qualified all by myself. I really did. What I said about practising for hours was true. I didn't lie."

"So there's nothing wrong with your eyes?"

The anguish in her eyes gives away for hope and I realize she's really losing sleep over this. I want to take her in my arms and reassure her that her worrying days are over, but I can't, because the lying days are definitely over and the truth isn't quiet that simple.

"OK, so I lied a bit."

The look in her eyes change again. This time to one of sheer terror and I hate myself for doing this to her. She takes two steps forward and collapses on the couch. With her head buried in her hands – probably to hide her tears – she whispers, "How bad, Bos? How bad?"

I swallow hard, unsure what to tell her. I don't want to scare her, but I don't want to lie to her either.

"Well, I'm not blind."

She takes her hands away from her face. "This is no joke, Bosco."

There's a hint of anger in her voice but more than anything she sounds desperate. I sit down beside her and sigh.

"I know. I'm sorry. The vision on my right eye have been blurry from time to time since I woke up, but the last year it has gotten worse and I can't see things clearly from a distance unless I close it. When I have a migraine, the vision on both eyes gets blurry when the pain increases."

"So when you aim, you can't really see what you're aiming at?"

"No."

"Oh God, Bosco."

"It's OK. I try not to use my gun much and I'd never try to shoot when my partner is in the line of fire again. I'm not that stupid."

She looks sadly at me. "You shooting someone is the least of my concerns, Bosco. To be honest, I didn't care much the last time either. I only care about you, Bos – about your safety. Can't you see that?"

I frown. "What do you mean? I'm not in danger – unless you know something I don't."

Her eyes overflow with tears. "If you can't use your gun, you're in danger as soon as you get out on patrol and if you can't see that, you're in real danger!"

I hesitate for a moment before I pull her into my embrace, not sure if she wants me to touch her or not. "Faith, don't cry. There's no need for you to worry. I'm doing fine. After all I haven't been shot in five years. That has to count for something, don't you think?"

She pulls way and dries at her tears. "Yeah, I guess – and at least you're not with me most of the time."

She speaks the last words so quietly I almost can't hear them.

"What's that's supposed to mean?"

She doesn't answer, just keeps her gaze firmly at her hands in her lap.

"Faith?"

I lift her chin so I can look at her.

She averts her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do! Every time you got shot it's because of me!"

I stare at her in disbelief. "Come on, Faith. That's not true and you know it!"

She really can't believe that, right? But her next action tells me she does, because she quickly stands up and practically whimpers out. "Yes it is!" and with that she runs for the door.

I'm able to catch up with her just before she opens it. I take hold of her arm, but she tries to break free, sobbing hysterically. I quickly put both my arms around her, holding her as tight as I can without hurting her.

"Come on, Faith. Stop it! This isn't your fault. None of the times I got shot were your fault."

"Yes, yes it was."

"No, Faith. It wasn't you."

"It was me. It's always me. I always hurt you!"

She's struggles harder to get away but I'm not about to let her out of my sight in the condition she's in right now. I have never seen her hysterical like this and it's very scary and even more so knowing it's because of me.

"Faith, calm down! You have never hurt me."

"So you would have thrown yourself in front of the machine guns even if you didn't have to save me?"

"Faith…."

She just looks at me with said eyes. I have never seen her crying this hard before, her whole face is wet with tears, and I just don't know what to say or do to comfort her.

"You should just have let me die."

I just stare at her. The thought itself is horrifying and to hear her say it out loud makes it hard to breathe.

"No, I shouldn't have."

"Yes you should. You'd have a much better life if you had."

I hug her tighter, wanting her to physically feel my love. "No I wouldn't. I wouldn't have had a life at all. If you had died that day, so would have I."

She pulls away again. "You can't be serious."

"Yes I am. You said a couple of weeks ago that you can't lose me and the same goes for me, Faith. I can't lose you. Do you really think I took four bullets for you to become a hero or to repay you for taking one for me?"

She doesn't answer me, just looks at me with big, sad eyes.

"I did it because I love you, and without you, I'd rather be dead."

"No, Bos. Don't say that," she whispers painfully.

"I mean it, Faith – every word of it."

She collapses on the couch again, then looks up and meets my eyes. Her gaze is filled with love and affection, but the fear still lingers underneath.

"Bos…."

Her tone of voice tells me she's going to start crying again and I quickly sit down and take her in my arms again.

"Shh, Faith. It's OK now."

She shakes her head. "No, it's not."

"Yes it is. Everything is fine. Neither of us is alone. We're both here. We're together."

She pulls away from me. "Yeah. But for how long?"

I smile warmly, happy to be able to tell her what she wants to hear for once – at least that's what I think I'm going to do.

"Forever. That's how it's gonna be from now on. I'm not gonna let you out of my sight one more time."

"You know that's not true, Bos."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"Can't you see it's just a matter of time before I lose you? With your bad eyesight you can get shot anytime."

"So could you," I say defensively.

She nods. "Yeah and I don't have any problem with my eyes. You have doubled the odds against yourself, Bosco."

"Faith – "

"No, Bosco. Don't tell me there's nothing to worry about – because there is! And it's not only your eyesight that worries me. What about the migraines? How serious are they? Have you even seen a doctor about them?"

"Yes, I have. My neurologist knows everything about them."

"Everything?" she asks, eyeing me doubtfully.

I cringe slightly. Sometimes it really bothers me how well she knows me. "OK, so maybe not everything. But she knows enough."

"I don't think you're competent enough to tell what she needs or does not need to know."

I press my lips together. I don't like the way this conversation is going. I have managed to deny the escalating problems with my migraines for so long, and I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with reality just yet.

"Bos…," she says pleadingly. "I wanna know the truth. I love you and I'm scared for you."

"There's nothing to be scared of, Faith. It's just migraines."

"It didn't look like nothing to me yesterday."

I sigh and tiredly run my hand over my hair. "Really, Faith. It's no big deal. My neurologist knows about them. She gave me pills for them and told me to come back if they got worse or if I got seizures."

"And have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Gone back."

"No. Why would I? I haven't had any seizures."

"No, but the headaches are getting worse, aren't they?"

"Not worse – just more frequent."

"That's bad enough, Bos. You need to go back."

"No, Faith. I won't."

"Why?"

"Because there's simply no point. She can't help me anyway. She doesn't even know for sure why I get them. She thinks it's some kind of nerve damage from the shooting but none of the tests she ran could tell for sure. This is simply something I'll have to live with."

The guilt is back in her eyes and it kills me. I don't want her to feel guilty. I want her to feel loved. "Don't look so guilty, Faith. It's not you fault."

"Yes it is," she whispers, her voice sounding like she's crying again.

"No, Faith. It was my choice and my choice only."

She reaches out and touches my face, tenderly running her fingers over the scar. "But I don't want you to hurt because of me."

I swallow hard and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I'd rather it be me than you, Faith. I'd rather it be me."

She doesn't answer but the love I see in her gaze makes it all worth while.

"Thank you."

I smile slightly. "You're welcome,"

I lean in to kiss her but she shifts away and the moment is gone.

"Do you think your vision problems affect your headaches?"

I sigh, realizing I'm not going to get out of this. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe you strain your eyes because you can't see properly, causing yourself to get a migraine."

I shrug. "Maybe."

"Does your neurologist know about your eyesight, too?"

"No."

"You haven't told her?"

I shake my head.

"Have you told anyone about it?"

"No, not anyone who doesn't already know and all the people who once knew think it's OK now."

"I don't get it, Bosco. How did you manage to pass the medical clearance if you can't see properly?"

"I memorized the board they use for the tests."

"Bosco…."

My name comes out as a whisper. I can tell she's terrified that something is going to happen to me and it makes me feel desperate. I don't want to cause her this much pain. My goal has always been to make her feel safe, happy and loved. I guess I failed completely this time. I try to touch her but she stands up and walks away. I'm starting to fear she's going to leave but she stops halfway between the couch and the door and turns to face me.

"I can't do this, Bos. I'm sorry. I just can't."

"Do what?"

"Us. I can't have a relationship with you knowing what I know now. I can't wait at home for you, praying that you will survive the day. I can't live with that kind of fear, Bosco. I just can't. I'm sorry."

I feel a knot forming in my stomach. I'm going to lose her. I'm going to lose her over my own stupidity – again. I never learn. But I promised myself it would be different this time. This time I'm going to do it right. This time I'm going to beg.

"Please, Faith. Don't say that. We're bigger than this. We can make it work."

"Can we?"

"Yes. Yes we can," I answer eagerly.

"And when you die – then what am I supposed to do?"

"I'm not gonna die."

She just shakes her head and turns around. "I'm sorry, Bos. I can't do it. It hurts too much."

"OK, then, just leave. Run away from everything that hurts – just as you always do. But can you honestly tell me that it would hurt less to read my obituary notice in the paper, huh?"

She turns around again and the look in her eyes tells me I've won this battle. I quickly close the distance between us and pull her close to me.

I kiss the top of her head and whisper, "It's gonna be OK, Faith. I promise."

She looks up at me. "For sure?"

I nod. "For sure."

We both know I can't promise that, but right now that's what we both need to believe to survive. We stand there for a while, holding each other tightly, but then she says pleadingly, "Can't you at least make an appointment with your neurologist?"

I sigh heavily. God, that woman is stubborn!

"Faith-"

"Please, Bos – for me."

I sigh again. I realize that – unlike before – this isn't a battle I'm going to win and I have never been able to deny her anything.

"OK, Faith. I will – for you."

She smiles brightly. "Thank you!"

I return her smile and silently praying that we'll be able to find some middle ground.

TBC….


End file.
